


the fire and the rose are one

by congratsyouvegrownasoul



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, Fire Nation Royal Family, Gen, Ursa POV, this is sort of fluffy and sort of...unsettling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 03:29:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10800768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/congratsyouvegrownasoul/pseuds/congratsyouvegrownasoul
Summary: "For Ursa’s first spring festival in the capitol, it seems as if every flower in a mile’s radius has burst into bloom."Ursa reminisces about her childhood and dances with Azulon and Lu Ten; Ozai gets jealous





	the fire and the rose are one

For Ursa’s first spring festival in the capitol, it seems as if every flower in a mile’s radius has burst into bloom. Not only are the palace gardens filled with the bright colors of living growth, but cut flowers are everywhere as well, hanging in baskets from the limbs of trees alongside white paper lanterns.

It makes the simple wildflower garlands she and her friends used to weave back home seem almost silly, just children’s fancies. Still, though, Ursa thinks with a hint of longing about the way she celebrated this holiday just last year, before the Firelord and his son turned up on her parents’ doorstep and changed her life irrevocably.

She and her friends would drape their garlands over their shoulders like their now-cast-off winter cloaks, and parade around, laughing and tripping over each other. They’d flirt with boys and then run off in a riot of giggles. The village fortune-teller would rake in coins from silly young girls eager to hear about their futures—Ursa’s not ashamed to have been one of them. But no one ever predicted this future for her.

Everything is so different, now. The palace’s great stone garden pavilion is thronged with the Fire Nation’s elite—people who wouldn’t have given Ursa a second glance a year ago. Today, though, she is one of the Firelord’s most honored guests; the mother of his newborn grandson.

This is Ursa’s first public ceremony since Zuko’s birth a month earlier. She’s been surrounded by admirers since the beginning of the evening, showered with compliments on her gown’s intricate embroidery and the grace of her bearing. It’s almost enough to go to her head. She’s received many well-wishes also, from those who have heard how difficult the birth of her son was—many hopes for her continued health and recovery.

She misses Zuko, too—she won’t be there tonight for his bath and bedtime, although she plans to sneak in after the party’s over and he’s asleep, and kiss him goodnight anyway. But she knows her son is in good hands, and there’s something so exhilarating about a festival.

She was surprised when she first came to the capitol by how much they loved to dance. Dancing is forbidden in the Fire Nation, she knows, and even in the province where she grew up—one of the oldest settlements, Sozin’s first colonies, where most of the population hails from the Fire Nation originally—it is frowned upon. But, as she’s learned, there are different rules for the aristocracy, and in the Firelord’s palace, they dance.

Ursa thinks back once more to last year’s spring festival, imagines telling her old friends from home, or her parents— _a year from now I’ll be dancing with the Firelord._ Dancing? Firelord?

But sure enough, once a trio of tsungi horns start to play, her father-in-law heads straight for her and offers her his arm. As a widower, he often chooses to partner with Ursa at these events. Ursa isn’t overfond of the Firelord as a person—he can be sour, and she can’t understand how strict and unfeeling he is with her husband, his son. But as a dance partner, he excels. Even though he’s quite old now and getting frail, Azulon has a strength and grace on the dance floor that calls to mind the talented warrior she knows he was in his youth. He’s a better dancer than Ozai, and more conversational at parties to boot, although Ursa wouldn’t say that to either of their faces.

After her father-in-law monopolizes her for three dances, Ursa gets handed off to a beaming Lu Ten, who’s got a fireflower tucked jauntily behind his ear. At sixteen, this is the first year Ozai’s nephew has been allowed to participate in the adults’ festival dance. Lu Ten isn’t a very good dancer, but he’s a boisterous and enthusiastic one, and he soon has Ursa laughing hysterically with his jokes and vivacious movements. He reminds her of the boys from her home town—this, at least, is familiar.

When the tsungi horns start up with a slow, romantic tune, however, both their giggles fade. Lu Ten suddenly looks very serious, despite the now-askew flower in his hair, and Ursa bites her lip and plays with her own hair nervously.

They don’t end up slow-dancing, though, because Ozai nudges Lu Ten on the shoulder from behind—rather more roughly than he might need to, Ursa thinks.

“May I cut in on my wife?”

“Oh, um, sure. Of course.”

Lu Ten ducks away, looking somehow both relieved and regretful, and retreats to the hors d’oeuvres table.

Ozai maneuvers his hand to clutch at Ursa’s lower back, and pulls her close to his chest, but he doesn’t speak, just swaying rather stiffly to the beat.

It’s not that her husband isn’t in control of his body when he dances, or that he has no sense of rhythm—firebending teaches you nothing if not rhythm and control. He just seems entirely unfamiliar with the concept of partnering.

When Ursa watches Ozai spar in the training yards, he weaves around his opponents with all the dexterity of a master dancer. But they’re just that—opponents. Ozai doesn’t seem to know what to do when the goal isn’t to impress or to destroy—when there isn’t a goal at all. When they’re supposed to just be _there_ together, holding each other.

Ursa pulls away to look up into his face. She remembers him standing off under a lantern-laden tree when she danced with his father, watching the two of them spin around the pavilion. An idea sparks within her.

“You’re jealous, aren’t you?” She murmurs.

“No,” he says shortly. “What gave you that idea? I’m not.”

“Mmhmm,” she hums, quirking her eyebrows up at him. “Of course you’re not at _all_ irritated by watching other men dance with your wife. That doesn’t bother you. No way.”

On the one hand, Ozai’s jealousy is rather flattering. Ursa is a pretty girl, and she knows it. She remembers when she first met Ozai—they’d never laid eyes on each other until the day Azulon came to her childhood home and announced she would marry his son. Ozai’s eyes had widened slightly, almost imperceptibly, when they’d been introduced. But she had noticed.

It must frustrate him, seeing her dance with Lu Ten and Azulon, when he would prefer her to be on his arm for the whole event—his pretty little trophy.

His jealousy is also vaguely irritating to her—a man ten years older than she is, getting away with acting so childish. But after all, it isn’t as if she can reprimand him.

So she settles for gentle, flirtatious teasing.

He doesn’t know quite what to do with himself at first—there’s a flash of confusion in his eyes, and she worries for a moment that she’s pushed him too far. But then he smiles down at her slightly, and puffs his chest out.

“Well, maybe I am a bit bothered. But really I shouldn’t be—you can dance with them, for all I care. After the party, you’re all mine.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to heckofabecca for inspiration. Not part of my series because it's entirely Ursa-centric and doesn't feature Zuko at all, but definitely compliant with the other stories. I still kinda ship Ursa and Lu Ten.
> 
> Title once more from TS Eliot's Little Gidding, which has so many Fire Nation vibes it's not even funny.


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